I am bored and so I procrastinate. I take a break from indulging in knowledge and theories and let myself be entertained by my small monster of a TV. An old favorite is being shown: The Gladiator. “What we do in life echoes in eternity,” Maximus says. I concur, is it not so? Let’s live our life in glory–as soon as I’m off this couch.
I’m preparing for my paper. I’m reading in excess. Theories and perspectives. Now my focus is on Boal capturing the essence of Bretch’s interpretation of art.
“Art is immanent to all men, ant not only to a select few; art is not to be sold, not more than are breathing, thinking, loving. Art it not merchandise. But for the bourgeoisie everything is a commodity: man is a commodity. And this being so, all the things that man produces will likewise be commodities. Everything is prostituted in the bourgeois system, art as well as love. Man is the supreme prostitute of the bourgeoisie!”
I do concur and I believe there is a little Marxist hiding in the depths of my cultural understanding. Oh. Mother would be so proud!
It’s been a spontaneous weekend. Anna and I decided to drive up to Stockholm Friday night to surprise the gang. I love road-trips, random ones the best. We arrived after midnight and spent two days in a haze of wine, meatballs and spooning with great friends creating new incredible memories. This morning it was time for me to continue my adventure north to reach Härnösand for a preparation course before my trip to Kenya. 45 miles more to go. I woke up with a horrible hangover and felt the stress creeping up my spine. But with the worst possible feeling you realize why your friends are great friends. They served me pasta-breakfast, helped my pack my things, cured my hangover with resorb, a cold shower and mouth-rinse, double-checked that my train was on time, followed me to the bus stop and sent me off. So now I’m on my way. No longer hungover, somewhat sad to have had to say goodbye for now, but very excited about the adventure that awaits up north. Also. Snow!
… An addition that is a story in itself. Last weekend was spent in Arnheim emerging oneself in music and sweaty decadence. Google Qlimax for more info. My life is a life of dichotomies. Silence versus Musical chaos. Cold versus Heat. Black versus White. Haha. The last one is kind of stupid, but it’s true. I’m the synthesis of all the dichotomies my life consists of.
I’ve returned to reality and turned a year older. Luckily older still only means twenty-four. I’m keeping busy planning for my next great adventure. On January 8th I will take off for eight weeks in Kenya to study how theatre can be used to communicate democratic development for my masters thesis in Communication for Development. I don’t understand how I got to be so lucky. To do things that constantly challenges me, to give myself time to grow into whom I want to be, to surround myself with people who inspires me, to be surrounded by people who believe in me and support me. This is a sappy post, but I just received my birthday-present from my mother and it was just one of those things that blows your mind and forces you to contemplate how lucky you are to be walking in your shoes. Thank you. In 16 days my mother will finally return from the sandbox to spend Christmas here in Sweden with me. I can’t wait for early morning discussions about the complexity of nihilism, the midnight–stone-cold–walks along the beach, the answers to the perplexity of life rediscovered in the last drops of the cheapest bottle of bourgogne.
It’s said that silence is good for the soul. I don’t think I can ever be quiet, but I’ve learned that silence can mean many things. Silence here have meant floating, it’s meant being in hiatus. Tonight I’m leaving Riyadh and my silence behind. It’s been quite the journey of self-reflexion and rediscovering. Spending that much time with myself has been interesting and forced me to question who I am and why. It’s not that I had lost myself, it’s just that the stress of life sometimes cloud the enjoyment of life. Then we all need to hit pause, allow ourselves to breath and to not care about all the things that are expected off us. But now I’m off to new adventures.
The heat is killing me–but it’s that lovely death that you just can’t complain about. Instead I escape from the heat by spending time in the pool, holding my breath under water, counting each fleeing second of life. I like it here, my existence is meditative. When I re-surface I can breath in and out determined. I try to think of nothing else then just being and just being here.
Spent a night in Germany hunting for trolls, the eternal companion A. by my side. Giant trolls, skinny trolls, grim trolls and baby trolls. I still sometime find myself dumbfound over the adventures we tend to stumble over. It’s such an amazing thing to have someone just as crazy, spontaneous and wild as you are to wonder around life with. We have had, give or take, around 6 345 days of adventures so far, the 50 I will spend in Riyadh without, you, my better half is nothing compared to that.
Woke up in Gothenburg last weekend and realized that this has been a summer of shenanigans. A summer of up to no-good-times and to much making non-sense with fabulous friends. These are the abstract times of summer where the sun has been absent but life still has been shining bright. There has been sorrows, and horrifying hardships, but those have only reminded me of the instantness of life. Be happy today–not tomorrow, dance today–not tomorrow. Love today–not tomorrow. As I spend five minutes of this summers last working day, I procrastinate and I ponder the idea of fall. Normally the idea of the looming fall leaves me saddened, the greyness of Swedish skies are less intriguing during fall than summer. But today joy fills me as I remember the shenanigans this summer and look forward to forthcoming new fall adventures. In sixteen days two months of meditation in Riyadh with sand and unruly hair. After that regrouping and hopefully creativity in Kenya.
Irina Bernebring Journiette 